The Last of the Grey Wardens
by Dorryza
Summary: Being a Grey Warden is already dangerous enough even without Darkspawn swarming around every crevice. But can the last of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden fight off the Archdemon and its Darkspawn horde? Or will a dysfunctional group of companions in an even more dysfunctional country spell disaster even before that final fateful encounter?


So, I don't know why I started this. I suppose I just replayed DA:O, and I how much potential the story has.

This story (if I can just keep up with it, that is) will not be a strict novelization of the game, but will instead be my own twist on the events of the game. That means, there will be major differences. But not quite this chapter yet.

Oh, and criticizing reviews, if constructive, are always welcomed. I do want to be a better writer.

* * *

"Is this meant to be some kind of insult? Sending you, a _templar_?" the mage asked angrily. "Or is it something else?" Angry brown eyes narrowed. "Is it a _threat_?"

"N-no" Alistair stammered briefly before collecting himself. "I was simply the nearest person she could ask to deliver this message."

"And what is it?" He asked impatiently. "I'm quite busy, you know, helping the Grey Wardens- by the king's order, I may add."

"It's simply that she desires your presence" Alistair said while watching a woman approach from the corner of his eye.

"Tell the _revered mother_" The scorn and derision in the mage's tone made it clear exactly what he thought of her- "that I will _not_ be harassed in this manner!" He began to turn away while snorting in derision.

"Oh but we were getting along so well together!" Alistair said in a sing-song happy voice. "I was even going to name one of my children after you- _the grumpy one._" The sudden change in tone made it clear that the mage was in no way off the hook.

"I-" the mage sputtered for a moment. "Fine! I'll go, if only to get you off my back!" He began to walk away, muttering under his breath all the while. Alistair turned to the new arrival.

Long auburn hair cascaded down to pool around her shoulders, and her face was framed by high cheekbones and small set of laugh lines. The smirk on her lips was mirrored in her storm gray eyes as she settled back on one leg. "Enjoying yourself?" she said, laugh carried through in her voice as well. Her head angled up- she was slightly shorter than him. He could notice small freckles dotting her face in the sunlight.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Don't you love how the Blight just brings everyone together?"

She gave a small snort. "Nothing like a nation-threatening disaster to make people start turning on each other at the slightest provocation."

"Tell me about it", came the exasperated reply. A moment passed, before Alistair remembered his manners. "Come to think of it, I don't think we've met yet. I'm-"

"Alistair, I presume?" she interrupted.

"Yes, that would be me. Which would make you the new recruit..." he paused, racking his head.

"Elissa", she supplied. "Elissa Cousland." Something about that name seemed to sadden her, but Alistair barely noticed that as his mind was processing the name 'Cousland'. He'd be fighting alongside a Cousland, the highest of the nobles, second only to the king! "Why did he recruit a Cousland?" he thought out loud.

Instantly, the chipper attitude that Elissa had worn abruptly disappeared, replaced by pain. "I-" her lips thinned. "I don't want to talk about that," she forced out.

Now, Alistair wasn't necessarily the most knowledgeable about women, but even he knew that this was bad. So he did the only thing he could think of, and ran away from that subject. "So, you're the new recruit, then? Why don't we go meet your new brothers?"

"You mean Daveth and Ser Jory?" Elissa grabbed onto the new subject like a drowning man might grab onto a piece of driftwood. "I've already met them."

"Oh?" came the response from the templar. "What did you think?"

"Daveth's an ass, and Ser Jory's an overzealous coward," came the instant reply.

"Wow! That's cold," Alistair remarked, but with a smile. _I like her already_, he thought, turning to head towards the mess tent.

"Tell me it's not true and I'll tell you that you're a liar," Elissa shot back, turning to follow him.

"Weeeelllll" Alistair drew out. "You may have a _bit_ of a point..."

"Only a bit?" she quipped, with an angelic expression on her face.

A few steps later, he was forced to admit, "Alright, maybe you're completely right." He glanced at her again and was greeted with a sunny smile. He couldn't help but smile in return.

"So", she started as they hunched over what appeared to be the week's fifth serving of mutton stew, "Why are you looking at me like that?" She gave another smirk. "Never seen a woman before?"

"Right, so that innocent thing?" he muttered into his soup. "Not falling for it." When he saw her raise an eyebrow, he realized that he hadn't actually answered the question. After swallowing his current mouthful, he said thoughtfully, "Well, I just haven't seen any female Grey Wardens before." He gave a shrug. "As far as I can tell, you're the first." He went back to his stew, slurping it down happily.

Her eye twitched. "Might you know why?" she asked.

He shrugged again. "Not me. Do you?"

Elissa smirked again- he couldn't tell whether he was amused or scared by that smirk. "Well," she mused, "I think it's just that women are just too smart to be Grey Wardens, mmm?"

"Oh?" Alistair said. "Then what does that say about you?"

"Incredibly unlucky" came the completely deadpan response.

Alistair winced. "Ouch," came the slightly pained reply. But he still smiled a bit nonetheless. _I really like this one_, came the thought. And then a second, more morbid one.

_I hope she survives the Joining_.

_Maker, I hope they _all_ survive the Joining_.

* * *

"Remember, Elissa- three vials of darkspawn blood" Duncan reminded them gravely.

"Yeah, I got it," she said soberly. Elissa cast an eye over the three men behind her. "You heard him- let's get going." She was practically sprinting as she wound her way through the camp, surprisingly quick despite the heavy armor covering her body like a metal shell and the sword and shield strapped onto her back, both emblazoned with the Highever coat of arms.

Alistair, caught by surprise, only managed to catch up to her because she had halted in front of the mabari kennels. "Nawww, who's a good doggie," she cooed as the dog preening under the weight of her hand writhed in happiness and tossed in a couple of hearty barks for good measure. Her eyes passed right past Daveth and Ser Jory and settled on Alistair. "Come here, Alistair! Come meet Fluffy!"

"You've got to be kidding me," he replied incredulously as he stepped forwards. "You named a mabari warhound _Fluffy_?"

She gave a half-assed shrug. "That's what he was when I first got him" came the reply. "And aren't you just fluffy, aren't you, you cute little nugawug," she crooned, rubbing his head. "Ar-_ruff_!" came the excited reply.

"Now," she continued as Alistair approached. "This is Alistair. He is pack. So, no biting, alright?"

There was a flash of brown fur, and suddenly Alistair found himself on the ground with several hundred pounds of dog- wet, stinky dog- firmly planted on his chest. _And this is how it ends_, came the initial thought, before he realized this his face was also covered. With something thick and slimy. Dog spit, to be exact. "Ah," he muttered. "Got it, you love me, now shove _off_." Fluffy, unperturbed, gave him another long lick before clambering off.

Looking up, he saw no small amount of mirth shaking the frames of Elissa, Daveth, Ser Jory, and the surrounding soldiers. "Yes, yes, laugh it out," he said, cheeks flaming, as the kennel master, apparently well-versed in these occurrences, handed him a worn towel.

"So, Fluffy will be joining us. Any objections? None? Alright, then." Elissa declared. She strode to the gate leading out to the Wilds, her companions trailing after her. "Good luck, Wardens!" came the cry from a soldier sitting in the camp, suddenly taken up all of the other soldiers in the vicinity.

"War_den_," she said, putting emphasis on the singular. But she still smiled and waved before walking out the gate separating them from the Korcari Wilds.

Only Alistair, standing close to her at the door, caught the pained expression that had followed when she had been labeled as a Grey Warden.


End file.
